I'm Alexander Pierce's son

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***

16 March 2012.

After getting Murdoch's thanks and giving him Castle's address, I headed home with peace of mind. Now that I had dealt with my most important matters I could move on to my secondary tasks.

-Aloe. Hey, Hank, what's up, what's up? - Pierce asked, thinking about the benefits of tomorrow's trip.

-Bruce? - A voice on the phone asked in surprise.

-Well, who else would it be? - Replied Ryan.

-I'm glad to hear from you. I'm doing great.

-How did you find yourself a female Furry fan after all? - Pierce asked.

-Sharon's not a furry worshipper. -She's not a furry worshipper. - McCoy answered a little too sharply.

-"So you did find someone. - Ryan said with a smirk.

-Yes. -We've been together for six months. - Hank said quietly.

-Well, I'm happy for you. Why am I calling? I've got some free time and I wanted to visit your school. I've got a couple of good deals for Xavier and the students. - Said Pierce with a sinister smile.

-Yeah? -Great. I'll tell the professor about it. I think he'll be happy to hear from you. And Kurt will be happy to meet you again. - Hank said cheerfully, and then you could hear him going somewhere.

-Bye, then.

-Bye.

Well, that's taken care of, now I have to think about who's going to be useful to me. I think there was a kid called Harold. He could sense living people in a fairly large radius around him. It's not a very useful ability, but I'm gonna need it for one thing. There's a community of deformed mutants near New York City. Some of them have rather radical views and like Magneto believe that a war between mutants and humans will never happen. But most live there simply because of their deformities and fear of mutant-haters. They call themselves Morlocks. There's about a couple dozen of them. And something tells me that some of them will be willing to trade the filthy tunnels under the city for a normal bed and fresh air pretty quickly.

***

15 March 2012 Stark Tower.

Emma Frost.

That arsehole knows how to spit in the soul. All that hard work and sleepless nights and for what? Praise from that scum. It's not like he's trying to trick me. I can hear what he's thinking. He really thinks I'm his best work. And I wanted to see anger, helplessness, or at least annoyance on his face. I'd finally be free. But I guess that's not going to happen and my nightmares will continue.

When I offered Christian the job, I hoped that by returning his smile I would finally stop waking up in a cold sweat. But nothing has changed, and tonight will prove it. I'd be back at the family estate, pulling Christian's body out of the noose again. Maybe if I got drunk, I could forget and sleep.

While I was drinking, I was approached by a couple of golden youths. But even without telepathy it was clear from their faces that they had only one goal. And digging into their heads I also learnt the standard way of getting girls for this couple. If their wallets didn't allow them to get under their skirts, they used drugs along with a couple of stimulants to put in the victim's drink. I didn't want to waste my energy on punishing these scum. So I just made them take the chemistry set they had prepared for the evening and go to the loo for some privacy. After I'd seen the couple I'd created before my eyes, I continued pouring alcohol into myself. I wasn't afraid of falling prey to some overly active guy while drunk. I knew that after meeting my father, Christian had followed me, and even now he was lurking in the crowd, giving me a worried look from afar. His concern warms my soul, of course, but he knows I'm telepathic and yet he's still convinced I have no idea he's following me.

On the fifth cocktail I was dumbfounded by a question from the guy on my left. I was beginning to think I'd had so much to drink that my telepathy was starting to fail, but listening to my senses I realised with a shock that he just wasn't being felt. This was the first time I'd ever experienced anything like this. No, of course, there were times when I couldn't read a person, but those were usually people with very strong wills, or mutant mentalists, or people with noise generators. If the first two types were no different in sensation, I could feel them, but when I tried to get into their heads, I ran into a block that, if damaged, would immediately notify the owner of my intrusion. The third case was more rare. It was found in very rich and dangerous people. If an ordinary person resembled a constantly working radio, then such people were like broken appliances. Because of the noise that was spread by the device they were wearing, they couldn't be read. Although Stark doesn't wear such a device, but his reactor makes such a noise that it could cover a couple of people standing nearby.

But this guy was just a void to my telepathy. It was like he didn't exist. It's not a very pleasant feeling, to be honest. Imagine you're communicating with an invisible man. You can hear him, and you can even touch him, but your brain is still unaccustomed to it, and it tenses up because of it. Realising I'd been staring at him for a minute, I found nothing better to do than just ask who he was.

Ryan Pierce? Never heard of him, though I usually know the faces of everyone who comes to Stark's drinking parties. I'm not a regular at these events, but at least once a month, I allow myself to relax around retards. Why morons? Well, there's no other way to describe most of the people here. They are mostly rich kids who have no idea where the money on their cards comes from. Their purpose in life is just to spend money, party, have sex and do drugs. But most of these "golden" youngsters know my name and from the rumours floating among their kind, they have an idea of what can happen to them if they behave insolently in my presence. So I answered the guy's question honestly and gave my first and last name.

Hmm, he seems to be new and knows absolutely nothing about me. He didn't react to my answer and continued to look at me with a smile. Well, I could give him a couple of points for a normal look, because I was getting tired of these carnivorous evaluations. And I was already in the habit of dressing like this, so I couldn't give up such an easy way to break through the defences of my mind. I don't even have to work hard because of such clothes, all the victim's thoughts are immediately visible. I've even broken through the defences of strong-willed owners a couple of times with the right angle for their eyes.

Asking the guy how he ended up here, I almost laughed in his face. He said he ran away from business and work. If that was a joke, it was a very good one. I don't believe anyone who could get into this party and have a face like that has ever worked. Most likely, his mum or dad gave him a simple job for some experience, and he, after struggling for an hour decided that he was tired and went on holiday. But in principle, what do I care? I don't have to drag him to bed. Though he looks 21-22 years old, but I can't tell them apart without telepathy, and even after alcohol my head still works. But it's possible to get this hothouse boy drunk and watch him crawl half-dead to the lift.

Everything after that was a blur. Cocktail after cocktail, and my tongue came out of my mouth. Why the fuck did I bother him with my problems? He had nothing to do with it. And that bastard was also giving me a hand, and how could I not speak up? By the end of the party, I had no idea what was going on and I was just being persistent. How could Pierce drink so much alcohol? I was in the middle of drinking no more than one cocktail every 10-20 minutes, and he was downing shots every couple of minutes. So at the end, he also helped my body from stretching out on the floor. I don't understand how I became someone who wouldn't even make it to the lift without support? He's definitely a mutant, though no, more like a demon. Only a demon could pour so much alcohol into himself and walk smoothly to the stairs. And I distinctly remember the last thing I saw was him walking smoothly.

Next day, Emma Frost's private penthouse.

-In... water...! - Said Emma, lying in bed and contemplating ways to end her suffering.

-Oh you're alive at last, I was just about to go and wake you up. - The blond man came into the room, pulling back the curtains and letting the sunshine into the room.

-Water! - Emma repeated her request, already starting to try on the balcony.

After agonising for a minute or two, she finally heard her brother's footsteps carrying the much needed liquid for her survival. Reaching out a trembling hand for the glass Frost squeezed it with all her might, lest God forbid she spill a drop. Seconds later, she heard the sound of glass cracking and then felt the healing liquid begin to pour down her arm. Concentrating on the glass, she witnessed her skin from the palm of her hand and upwards begin to resemble crystal.

-Am, you didn't tell me about this ability. - Christian said, looking at her hand with interest.

-I didn't know about it myself. - Frost said in shock, gathering her thoughts a little.

***

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